Bruja Brouhaha by Rochelle Staab Page A

filed back into the botanica, where Cruz waited on her stool at the end of the counter, watching TV with her chin on her fist. She looked at her watch, then at the front door, a not very subtle hint for us to leave already.
    I collected my purse and hugged Lucia good-bye. “I’ll check with Victor on your meds. I’ll come back to visit after my session at the clinic on Saturday.”
    Nick kissed Lucia on the cheek. “And I’ll call you in the morning. If you need anything, call me. You know my number. Make sure you set the alarm when you go upstairs.”
    As soon as we hit the sidewalk outside, I took out my phone and dialed.
    “Who are you calling?” Nick said.
    “Victor.” Voice mail answered. I left a message. As we crossed the street to the parking lot I said to Nick, “I wish someone else, a closer friend, could stay with Lucia.”
    “You don’t like Cruz already? You just met her,” Nick said.
    “Here’s how she described Lucia to me.” I circled my finger at my temple, mimicking Cruz. “Victor was in a rush to hire her. Lucia deserves compassion, a companion who will care for her, and I don’t mean her gods and saints.”
    “Lucia is comforted by her beliefs,” Nick said. “Santeria is centuries old. The orishas she prays to originated in tribal Africa.”
    “I’m worried about her immediate state of mind. She confused me for Teresa again today, the third or fourth time this week. Her confusion about identities and the delusion that Paco is with her could be reactions to medication or dementia.”
    He waved me off. “Her quirkiness is part of her charm. And she explained why she senses Paco.”
    “What you consider quirky I see as an elderly woman at risk for mental disorders and complications.”
    Nick stopped by the car. “You’re angry because Lucia put a spell on you.”
    “No. I know she meant well. But I think you enjoy watching me participate in meaningless supernatural stunts.”
    “What’s with you today? First you criticize me for placating frightened kids, now you indict me for humoring Lucia. Lighten up. Have Victor check Lucia’s medication, take her to a gerontologist or a psychiatrist, reorganize her life if you want to, but give me some credit for caring about both of you,” Nick said. “Let Victor handle the medical diagnoses.”
    He was right, of course. I had acted out my frustrations by lashing out at him and the spell. “I love how you care, Nick. I’m sorry.” I took his hand. “Let’s go back to the clinic. Maybe Victor decided to show up.”

Chapter Ten
    P atients packed the Park Clinic lobby, most standing in front of the reception desk and talking over one another. Jackson handed out and collected clipboards, barking at the insistent patients to wait their turn.
    “Busy place,” Nick said to Jackson after the last person sat down.
    “Everyone thinks the hex is contagious and they’re at death’s door. I had to send Miguel to the market to buy your magic anti-hex mints for the hypochondriacs. I tell them I got the antidote special delivery from an expert. That would be you, honey.” She winked at Nick. “That was a good idea.”
    Nick leaned on the counter. “What flavor?”
    “Same as yours. White peppermint,” Jackson said, smiling.
    “Good choice. Though I prefer orange for severe cases,” Nick said.
    “This isn’t funny,” I said. “What if someone is really sick?”
    “Honey, I been a clinic receptionist since my first baby was in diapers. I can tell the sick ones from the lonely or crazy ones in a blink. The sick is in their eyes. I’m not just flippin’ through magazines back here, you know. I pay attention.” She straightened a stack of papers with a crisp bang. “Did you forget something, Liz?”
    “We stopped by to see if Dr. Morales decided to come in,” I said.
    “No, hon, he didn’t. Want to leave a message?”
    I shook my head, disappointed, and thanked her.
    Miguel stopped us at the door. “I saw you come out of